It isn’t easy being trans in a male-dominated field

As a trans and queer couple selling records, we are misgendered and left out of spaces (Picture: Newt Albiston) ‘Hi ladies! I think I’ve seen you both before. Have we met at another fair?’ It was a Saturday morning in Brighton this July, when a man approached my partner and I as we were setting up our table at a record fair. We had been looking forward to it all week but he managed to instantly kill our vibe. I look at my partner, Colin, trying not to make too much of a face. ‘We’re not ladies’, I tried to explain and watched as he became instantly confused. He stood there dumbfounded, then claiming not to know what transgender meant after I clarified that that’s how I identified. This isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last, that as a trans and queer couple selling records, we are misgendered and left out of spaces because of our identity. When we started selling records in 2024, we were often the only queer, and probably the only transgender dealers in the room. Two years later, not much has changed, except us – but now we are successful and thriving, while breaking down barriers. We are proudly the outliers in our record-dealing community. Join Metro's LGBTQ+ community on WhatsApp With thousands of members from all over the world, our vibrant LGBTQ+ WhatsApp channel is a hub for all the latest news and important issues that face the LGBTQ+ community. Simply click on this link, select ‘Join Chat’ and you’re in! Don't forget to turn on notifications! I picked out a copy of Joni Mitchell’s ‘Blue’, Carole King’s ‘Tapestry’ and David Bowie’s ‘Ziggy Stardust’ (Picture: Newt Albiston) Ask Metro Use AI to go deeper into the stories you care about – powered by Metro and trusted publications. My business Keyring Records was founded on the principle of making record collecting a more accessible and fun venture for other queer folks. I’ve been collecting records since I was 16, when my dad bought me a suitcase turntable for my birthday and took me to our local HMV to pick out my first records. I’d always been enthusiastic and enamoured by music, and it was something that I’d connected with both my parents over. I picked out a copy of Joni Mitchell’s ‘Blue’, Carole King’s ‘Tapestry’ and David Bowie’s ‘Ziggy Stardust’, and listening to these 70’s records in their original format was special, and made me feel very connected to the music. Records were gaining new momentum and popularity when I was a teenager in the 2010’s, but I could have never predicted the current market. New vinyl is expensive, and something of a status symbol, whereas the world of old vinyl – secondhand records – feels closed off to many people. Colin (left) was the perfect person to do this with, as an avid collector of books and music (Picture: Newt Albiston) When you go to a record fair, you often see the same faces, the same men from the last fair, and the last one. Our first fair was fun, but difficult. We were swarmed pretty quickly, and some of the men were unsure of how to interact with us. I think younger queer people don’t realise that these spaces can be for them as much as they are for the men who have been commandeering the hobby since the mid-century. There’s also the case of streaming – now the challenge and thrill for the hunt for physical media might not feel joyful to other generations, but instead it can be tedious and frustrating. My partner Colin, who I started dating in 2023, had similar interests when it came to physical media, and then in 2024, we came across a new opportunity. Not long after I’d moved in with Colin, while jobless and bored, we had the idea to go through their uncle’s record collection – since he had passed away his records were collecting dust. Queer Hope & Joy Metro is sharing stories of Queer Hope & Joy, where we are centring stories that platform the vibrancy, diversity and resilience of the LGBTQ+ community. This is running alongside LGBT Foundation's Hope Starts Here campaign, and will represent as many LGBTQ+ identities as possible, while spreading hope and joy at a time it is very much needed. Find out more about LGBT Foundation's campaign here. To submit your story of your Queer Hope & Joy send your pitches to: sharan.dhaliwal@metro.co.uk Colin was the perfect person to do this with, as an avid collector of books and music. We wondered if we could use it as an investment into our lives, so after getting permission from their mum, we inherited around 700 records from a lifetime of his collecting. It was mostly 80’s and 90’s dance, but also many punk gems from the likes of The Clash, Sex Pistols, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and plenty of other recognisable names. We’d unknowingly stumbled into a collection worth thousands. We learned on the job, acclimated ourselves with platforms such as Discogs – a massive online database and marketplace for physical music – to make sense of pricing, and signed up for our first record fair in August 2024. We were excited but apprehensive – eager to fit in and unsure of how we were going to interact with the other dealers. We felt very out of place with our big pink stall, stripy tablecloth (Picture: Newt Albiston) Although it was a successful day, we were in the pit of a stagnant beast. The record fair model hasn’t really changed since the 80’s; a gaggle of men congregating in a rented church hall or a venue basement, grumbling about prices under their breaths as they hunt for specific labels and pressings. Many dealers were cordial, and we’ve made good friendships with quite a few of them, however we felt very out of place with our big pink stall, stripy tablecloth, and the obvious age difference between us and the other dealers. We quickly realised that in spite of all of this, we didn’t really care. For every bald man who walked directly past our stall, there would be an outlier in the form of a young gay boy on the hunt for a Doja Cat record, or a teenage girl with a list of J-Pop albums that she wanted to find. Our nicheness became a super power, and our community grew. In 2025, we began hosting the Hove Record Fair at a local pub (Picture: Newt Albiston) After a few more fairs, we started sourcing records based on what other people our age were on the lookout for, because we had a better knowledge on pop music, music and genres that might be considered special interest than our colleagues. Soon after, we decided that it was time to start our own event. In 2025, we began hosting the Hove Record Fair at a local pub. We’ve been running the fair ever since, and I’m seeing more and more folks with dyed hair, badge covered jackets, and varied pronouns enter the space since we began. I always spend the most time speaking to queer kids at the fair, because they often don’t have anyone else to gush about music with. Their eyes light up, they smile, and they relax. Now, I’m unafraid of the men who do not understand our deal, because I’m incredibly proud to be a queer record dealer with a pink stall. Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk. Share your views in the comments below. Arrow MORE: I’m a landlord making £100,000 a month — young people have no excuse to be poor Arrow MORE: TV star detransitions after living 12 years as a trans woman: ‘Those years weren’t a mistake’ Arrow MORE: I gave birth knowing my baby wouldn’t cry – doctors still call this a miscarriage